“Not a lot,” I told him. “But…is small crack like…” I took his hand and spread his fingers to show him the distance.
He turned his face into my chest and then let out a muffled, tattered scream. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”
“Is him, yes? The stalker?”
“Hunter,” he spat as he pulled back.
I winced at the sound of his name. It was such a nice name. So…human, but I didn’t want to think of someone who could do this to Micah the same way as I thought about myself, or his friends, or him.
No. This man was a fucking monster.
“We need to call police?—”
“Just,” Micah said, holding up a hand. He licked his lips, then reached for my arm and squeezed it. “Just wait. Maybe I should go inside and see if he’s there.”
“That is bad idea. Very bad idea. He could have a knife or a gun or a machete?—”
“Oh my god, he doesn’t carry a fucking machete,”Micah said. “He’s just a dickhead who’s trying to make my life harder.”
I wanted to believe that, but how could I trust a man willing to go this far? There was something wrong with him that he could torment Micah this way.
It would be one thing if they were playing a cute game of horny cat and mouse who wanted to fuck. But the man had hurt Micah. Assaulted him. Refused to take no for an answer, and that’s what I knew without any details.
I was afraid to know the whole story because it would be worse.
And now Micah wanted me to believe this was harmless?
“I will go first.”
“Vanya—”
“No. Not to be dickhead. I promise. But I can see, okay? I can see if he’s inside. You can handle after we know.”
He tightened his jaw, but after a beat, he gave me a sharp nod and moved his grip to the back of my arm. I walked slowly, as quietly and carefully as I could, and when I pushed the door open, the room was empty.
There was a soft glow that was coming from several lit candles on the coffee table, and I could see a note sitting next to it. It was handwritten, so clearly it was meant to either be hidden in plain sight or cause Micah a sense of helplessness.
The fucker.
“Well?” Micah demanded.
“I don’t see him here. We need to check the rest of the house,” I said.
Micah’s steps faltered a little as we pushed further into his place, his breathing hitching every time we entered a new room. But everything seemed in order.
Everything was untouched.
Until we got to the kitchen.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MICAH
I had never knownhatred until now. I had never known the profound sense of being in danger—in actual danger—until I was standing in my house on Vanya’s arm, waiting for him to tell me if my batshit dickhead stalker was in the room.
We did a cursory sweep of the guest rooms, my room, the bathrooms. Vanya ripped back the shower curtain in the smaller bathroom and then pulled open the linen closet door in the primary suite, but there was no sign that Hunter was waiting around some dark corner, ready to jump out and yell, “Surprise!” before bludgeoning me to death and…I don’t know.
Fucking my corpse?
